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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908731">risk and reward</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasprina/pseuds/kasprina'>kasprina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>took a little time to make a little better [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Good Older Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Tim Drake, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason kicking open the door: 'sup, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Tim Drake, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, because Dick &amp; Tim were great bros in the old comics, me: I'm gonna write a nice Tim &amp; Dick being bros fic, now that i think about it, so enjoy, this 1 time I'm cool with canon, who is trying his best, with a side of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:33:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasprina/pseuds/kasprina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look who got their leash extended!” Nightwing sang as he flipped onto the roof.</p><p>“A lot sooner than you did!” Tim bragged. He was buzzing with excitement and he'd managed to push it down and focus but now Dick was here, Batman was across Gotham, and it was back. </p><p>Robin was flying solo.</p><p>---</p><p>Tim's first night patrolling solo takes a sudden turn for the worse</p><p>
  <i>*This series has no specific reading order.*</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake &amp; Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson, Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd, Tim Drake &amp; Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>took a little time to make a little better [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>308</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>risk and reward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Look who got their leash extended!” Nightwing sang as he flipped onto the roof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot sooner than you did!” Tim bragged. He was buzzing with excitement and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> managed to push it down and focus but now Dick was here, Batman was across Gotham, and it was back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin was flying solo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lies.” Dick looked down at him with a grin. “But I’ll let you have it. Need any advice, twerp?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I say ‘No’ would that actually stop you?” Tim raised an eyebrow. Dick was an endless well of anecdotes, acrobatic tips, and life advice, which Tim usually didn't mind, but tonight he truly felt as confident as Nightwing acted and wanted to enjoy it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw Babybird, you don’t like my stories?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just say if you play the record again, it might truly break.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow.” Dick huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Message received, loud and–" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a soft whizz past Tim's ear. Dick jerked back with a choked off cry. Then he pitched forward and Tim was tackled behind an AC unit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nightwing landed on top of him, hand on the back of his neck, clutching him to his chest. The other hand was pressing both of their emergency beacons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"B, sniper on the roof.” Dick panted, voice raw. “I'm hit. Shoulder. Robin–” He bit back a groan of pain, squeezing Tim’s neck. “Robin, you good?"  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim hadn’t stopped staring at the red blooming across the suit, maring the blue symbol, creeping closer to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick had been shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robin!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm good." Tim said. Dick exhaled softly as his grip on Tim's neck grew weak. "Nightwing?" Tim pulled away. Dick slid to the ground, face already frighteningly pale, sweaty, and teeth clenched tight. His breaths were shallow and fast. Red spread across his back too.</span>
</p><p><em><span>Get it together Tim! You’re Robin so be Robin!</span></em> <em><span>Think! </span></em><span>Compression. Stop the bleeding. Make sure Dick could hold on until Bruce got here. </span></p><p>
  <span>Across the rooftops a figure watched them as they stalked to a better vantage point. Red glass flashed as they hefted the gun again and a laser sight danced across Nightwing’s body. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Protect Dick. Protect my brother.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tim whipped a batarang at the shooter only to watch despairingly as it was shot out of the sky. Deadshot? No. If this was Deadshot, Dick wouldn’t be breathing right now. And he was breathing, each one weaker and gasping, but he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laser focused on his Robin symbol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Down!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smoke exploded across the roof as Tim flattened himself over Dick. Batman. He got here fast, too fast if he was really half a city away like he said he’d be which meant–no, worry about that later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Batman cut through the smoke and scooped the limp Nightwing into his arms. “We need to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The shooter–”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Move!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Bruce yanked Tim away from the frantically searching laser. “Get to the Batmobile. We’ll pick up his trail later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Batman’s voice ordering him around but that was Bruce’s mouth twisted into a frown as he fired his grappling gun, lowering himself and Dick to the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Tim swallowed his protests and followed, leaping into the driver’s seat to pass Bruce medical supplies as the Batmobile shot through Gotham on autopilot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were back at the cave Tim tried to clean the blood off his suit himself. Needed to do something. But Alfred easily pried it from his shaking hands with a soft, “My dear boy,” and gently steered him to the medical bay, an unconscious Dick, and Bruce’s waiting arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the hardest sell of his life but somehow Tim convinced Bruce to not only let him back on patrol but to let him go solo. He liked to think it was because Bruce saw him as competent. But considering Bruce still had Superman babysitting Dick and Gotham at seventeen and had </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> been keeping an eye on him the other night, it was probably because Tim produced sufficient evidence to prove the shooter wasn’t the real Deadshot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the tiny lie that he’d never been targeted, just Nightwing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim suppressed a shiver as he flew through the chilly night. He only had one chance to get this copycat hitman. Batman would no doubt come barreling in from wherever he was lurking the second a shot was fired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless Bruce was </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the Diamond District while Tim was alone, all the way down by the port. If that was true, Tim would wear the pixie boots and scaly shorts permanently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Dick was here he’d take him up on that bet... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim shoved the thought aside and made another showy leap. Baiting the hitman. Daring him to show himself. Another nagging thought he’d been fighting all day rose again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was his plan good enough? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Batman would lurk in the shadows, waiting to pounce. Nightwing would drop from the sky with clever quips. Red Hood wouldn’t have waited at all, just spun around and shot the marksman on the spot the other night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what would Robin do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick had called him cerebral once, which coming from the world’s biggest planner was a compliment Tim treasured. A bomb might have gone off in Dick’s apartment and manor bedroom but all his vigilante i's and t's were dotted and crossed with geometric perfection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight it was time to put Dick’s faith to the test, with the help of a couple pages from Nightwing's book on planning. If Tim had more time than just one day, he could’ve come up with something more elaborate. A couple more contingencies. But he didn’t so this would have to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It happened an hour later. A flash of red glass gave his target away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here goes nothing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tim dropped into a free-fall before swinging out of sight, around the building, only to reappear behind the marksman and race across the roof. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're bold.” The marksman admired. He sidestepped Robin’s flurry of strikes then fired a modified handgun. Tim barely dodged it, feeling it catch his cape. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too close. Be faster.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Glaring behind his domino, Tim readied batarangs behind his back. “You’re not.” Before the gun could be raised again, he launched the batarangs and dove onto another roof, running madly until he had a good grapple hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hitman followed, leaping across rooftops as he tracked him, and Tim couldn’t help but grin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keep moving and he can’t hit you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keep swinging like Bruce and Dick had taught him during his initial training and again when Hood had first appeared in Gotham. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It worked too. Tim had a vivid memory of Nightwing bouncing and twirling over rooftops, chanting “Bob and weave!” as Red Hood chased him, cursing furiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was heading back towards the city and a warehouse. Batman must've noticed by now. If not, Oracle would tell him soon enough. He had a few minutes at most. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bullet zipped past. Tim sucked in a breath. Maybe he wasn't Deadshot but this guy was good and it was harder to avoid a laser sight when it was behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There. The warehouse. Tim fired and latched onto a cell tower, swinging over to the roof in a painfully smooth arc. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>exact</span>
  </em>
  <span> opposite of what he should be doing. Any idiot could hit him now. He just needed a few more seconds... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red dot centered on his chest. Tim twisted, flaring his cape to obscure himself but it was too late. That same whizzing noise filled the air. The grapple gun slipped from his hand. Tim plummeted towards a skylight below. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was going to hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dirty glass gave way beneath him, larger pieces slicing through weak points of the Kevlar. And now he regretted not taking advice from Nightwing because Tim quickly realized grabbing an old pipe was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to hold his weight. Maybe his next lessons should be on learning how to fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim hit the glass covered floor with a harsh grunt, chest tightening with pain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get up Robin! Time to move!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He obviously wasn't dead despite his pain and Dick’s shooting had proved this hitman wanted to confirm his kills. In fact, Tim was counting on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a snap, Tim extended his bo staff and dragged himself to his feet. His winded lungs struggled to suck in air. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Take your time, Batman. I’ve got this.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing past the lingering pain in his hip, Tim limped to the wall as the hitman landed in the warehouse with a thud. Even his outfit, down to the eyepiece of red glass, looked like a poor imitation of Deadshot’s. Tim felt a small swell of pride. He’d been right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Going to a costume party?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stand still and I'll finish it quickly." The man leveled a handgun at him. Somehow it was scarier when the Red Hood did it, even when Hood had the safety on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt it," Robin said. He shifted his weight closer to the wall. "Since Nightwing is still alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not for long." The muzzle stayed trained on him. "I’ll put one between his eyes after you. Believe this kid, anyone with a bat on their chest is going to die." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well that makes this easier." Tim hit a switch behind him and the metal flooring under the hitman crackled to life. With a ragged scream, the Deadshot wannabe convulsed, collapsing to the ground as he writhed. Tim watched with a grimace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the power shut off and the man lay gasping, Robin stalked towards him, twirling his staff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You filthy little–” The man panted, struggling to grab his gun. Tim flicked it away with the tip of the staff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did that hurt?” He asked in a low voice, standing over the twitching man. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did it hurt like a gunshot wound? A bullet so strong it pierced Kevlar weave? Did it hurt like watching your brother bleed out before your eyes? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it did!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” The bo staff hit the man’s skull with a crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Batman arrived in a swirl of black not even a minute later, rushing over as Tim was zip-tying the marksman. “Robin!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright.” Tim tried to force pep into his voice. “Lured him here then knocked him out cold.” Batman looked very pointedly at the two bullet holes in Robin’s cape. Tim shrugged. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> say lure. But don’t worry B, I’m not hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hnn.” Alright, so that lie wasn’t holding any water. Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll make sure he's taken in. You should head back and get looked over by Agent A.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally Tim would protest being sent back early. But tonight it meant rest for his aching body and seeing Dick. This one time, as Tim took the spare grappling gun Batman offered, he’d go silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Robin.” He froze. Was it a lecture? Bruce looked at him for a moment, cowl betraying nothing. Definitely a lecture. Then there was a nod and the hint of a smile. “Good work.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim bit back his smile and nodded back. Only once he was soaring across Gotham again did he grin. There was </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> a scolding of some kind awaiting him later but for now Batman was proud and Robin’s plan had worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was clever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim only slightly regretted the celebratory flying when he reached the cave. His cuts were smarting, he kept tasting dirt in his mouth, and his left side ached from the fall. All he wanted was a shower, pain meds, and sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But first, he wanted to see Dick. Would he be proud of his plan? Call it good detective work, say Robin was coming into his own, then laugh that he couldn’t stick the landing? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a motorcycle Tim didn’t recognize sitting in the cave, pulling him from his thoughts. Curiosity gnawed at him but whatever, he’ll figure it out later. First things first. Check on Dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim faltered as he stepped into the medical bay, his previous question answered. A man was hunched over in a chair beside Dick's bed. A motorcycle helmet and backpack sat by his feet and he wore a leather jacket Tim would recognize anywhere. “Jason?” The man tensed. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Last he heard (eavesdropped), Jason told Alfred he was leaving town to chase a lead and wasn’t supposed to be back for several weeks. It didn't upset Tim that no one told </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> directly. Or at all. But maybe a small, hero-worshipping, little brother part of him was disappointed that Jason was painstakingly making efforts with everyone except him. But Tim understood why. He wasn't mad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason looked up stiffly, Dick’s hand in his gloved one. Fury darkened his face, radiated from him like a wave. It made his skin crawl. "Who?" Jason’s voice was strained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well now Tim’s question sounded stupid. Why else would Jason come back early? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seriously Tim. Not clever.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He swallowed hard before answering, glad this rage wasn’t directed at him. "Deadshot wanna be.” Tim almost expected Jason to draw his guns then and there. “I took care of it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angry eyes narrowed. "I'm guessing he's not six feet under then." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. But it was painful. I made sure of that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason looked taken aback before he quickly recovered. "Eye for an eye huh?" Hang on, was Jason impressed? Should Tim really be excited about that? "You look like shit." Tim shrugged. He could walk it off. With an annoyed sound, Jason stood and pushed the chair towards him. "Let's get you cleaned up before someone thinks I did this to you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wince, Tim took Jason’s spot. He reached out and touched Dick’s wrist. The blood loss and shock had hit Dick hard and the steady pulse thrumming beneath Tim’s fingers was reassuring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's doing okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, Goldie’s alright. Woke up mumbling nonsense when I got here an hour ago then passed out again." Jason pulled up another chair and popped open the first aid kit. They sat in tense silence as Jason began tweezing glass from Tim’s cuts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I didn't go out looking for revenge." Tim broke the stalemate as he carefully held Dick's limp hand. Remembered how it had held his head, protected him. "I wanted to make sure he was off the streets, not hurting anyone else. I want–" Tim's throat tightened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyone with a bat on their chest.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "I wanted to protect the family." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know." Jason placated as he disinfected wounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That means you too, Jason." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason’s hand stilled. Then it lightly touched Tim’s shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly, before it disappeared. It took an insane amount of self control to not react because Tim couldn’t think of a single time Jason had voluntarily touched him outside of patching up a wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first aid kit clicked shut. "Dick’s gonna be fine. Bruce is fine. Alfred is fine." A brief hesitation. "I'm fine.” Jason pulled Tim to his feet and pushed him towards the showers. “Stop worrying and get some rest Timmy."  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh. His least favorite nickname. Tim had a feeling Jason used it </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> of that but it wasn’t Replacement and that corner of sadness in his chest began to ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Tim got back, Jason was still standing at the foot of Dick’s bed. Looks like he wasn't taking his own 'stop worrying' advice very well. At least the fury was gone from his face as he leaned on the railing, replaced by a contemplative frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim waited patiently as Jason put bandages over his largest cuts, idly wondering if he had picked up the mother hen-ing from Dick or if he’d always been like this. Then, ignoring the older man’s exasperated sounds, Tim crawled into the wide hospital bed. If his brother ever needed company or a hug it was now and Tim carefully pillowed his head on Dick’s unharmed shoulder. Hopefully Dick will wake up for good tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're gonna be fine, right Jay?" Tim mumbled, exhaustion pulling at him. His eyes suddenly felt like stone and slid shut despite his best efforts to keep them open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, Babybird.” Something fluttered over him then settled with a comforting weight; a blanket. “We're gonna be fine."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>See series page for notes about canon</p></blockquote></div></div>
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